


Penitent

by bonzai_bunny



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Catholic Guilt, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:13:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1707755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonzai_bunny/pseuds/bonzai_bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyouya knew there was nothing he could say that would change the way Tamaki thought of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penitent

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted some Tamaki with Catholic Guilt so here you go. Part of my getting rid of stuff from ff.net

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been over a year since my last confession.”

“Over a year?”

“Yes, I’m not from Japan, and when I moved I was so busy, and I didn’t know—”

“No excuses, my child. What sins have you committed?”

“I’ve committed the sin of lust; adultery with the eyes. . .”

“And have you repented for this sin?”

“That…isn’t all of it Father…”

“Yes?”

“My lust…has been for other men.”

\--o0o--

There were a few things that Ohtori Kyouya knew about his friend, Suoh Tamaki, in which no one else knew.

One, Tamaki was a devout Catholic. He didn’t talk about his religion very often because he knew how much his grandmother hated it, but he claimed that if it ever came up in conversation, he wouldn’t deny it.

Two, Tamaki was brought into his religion by his mother. She gave him the rosary that he still wore underneath his clothing whenever he felt insecure or needed to be closer to her.

Three, whenever Tamaki was troubled by something or taken out of his comfort zone (how strange it was to see the confidence dim in those violet eyes) he would reach up towards his neck to feel the beads under his shirt. This was largely unconscious on the blonde’s part, Kyouya guessed, and he probably did it to anchor himself, to remind himself that he still had his mother and he still had God.

And four, there was a strange attraction surrounding him and Kyouya and it scared the hell out of Tamaki.

Kyouya wasn’t going to lie; he wanted the blonde in an intimate way that best friends shouldn’t. He didn’t know when the attraction grew to its current state, but it was quite obvious to Kyouya one afternoon when he realized that he had been staring at Tamaki’s full lips instead of evaluating his host performance (which incidentally, he had checked as excellent).

But somewhere along the conscious acknowledgement of his lust, Tamaki had realized it too. He had a sixth sense for that type of thing and the boy was dense except for when he wasn’t.

Then along came the (stunning, exhilarating) realization that Tamaki wanted him _back._

It was subtle, but it was there. It was in the way that familiar tension molded his limbs whenever he realized he was being stared at by Kyouya (never by his fangirls and he never confronted the brunet on this). It was in Tamaki’s quickly adverted gazes when the blonde realized _he_ had been caught staring. And it was definitely in those touches that lingered longer than what was necessary or appropriate when Tamaki was being his usual, affectionate self.

It put a damper on their relationship, made things quite awkward at the core of it, but it was never spoken of, because Kyouya knew how much it disturbed the blonde. Whenever the heat of attraction coiled too tightly around them, Tamaki would grip the rosary underneath his clothing or he would simply get up and leave. They would never talk about it, and, eventually, the usual pattern of their friendship would continue.

Now, Kyouya wasn’t stupid; he knew that the mutual desire that had formed between them went against the very doctrines that had been drilled into Tamaki’s skull ever since he was a small child. He knew that he must _never_ touch the blonde in a romantic or sexually inclined way (just like he must never speak of their relationship) and, unfortunately, he knew from experience. Kyouya had once made the impulsive, stupid, decision to kiss Tamaki on the cheek, which he had regretted immediately after doing so.

He didn’t know where his head had been at the time, but after staring at the beautiful curve of Tamaki’s jaw line, drawn in like a fish, he had leaned forward and brushed his lips against the surface. It was chaste even though the force behind it wasn’t, and Kyouya still remembered the blonde’s expression after he did it: shock, horror, actual fear. He had broken one of their unspoken rules.

Tamaki ceased talking to Kyouya for the rest of the day. Though, at the time Kyouya wasn’t sure (and he still wasn’t) if the action was Tamaki’s way of punishing the brunet or _himself._

Still, even with that knowledge, Kyouya had trouble restraining himself and his desires. It was like a balloon that expanded with the more heat it received until one day, it just popped.

\- -o0o- -

It was a hot, midsummer day when the balloon finally burst.

The heat put Kyouya in a rare, lethargic mood and he was content to do his work laid back on his bed, with the blinds closed. He didn’t know what inspired this change in work style, but it was relaxing for the moment, so he was satiated.

That is, until Tamaki burst through the door claiming that they would go to the beach because it was such a beautiful, summer day (and he was already in his swim trunks and a Hawaiian shirt) and there was no way he was going to let Kyouya spend it cooped up in his bedroom.

Kyouya refused, of course, to even move from his spot on the bed which prompted Tamaki to pounce on the shorter teen and Kyouya wondered if the boy thought _at all_.

The action was innocent, but the position wasn’t and Tamaki didn’t catch it soon enough to rectify it with moving. But it was too late; Kyouya could feel that warmth beginning simmer underneath his skin. His mind rebelled against it, but it swelled in him, widened his pupils, and made him all too aware that Tamaki’s thighs were touching his own.

It was then that Tamaki had the decency to notice. His sentence was cut off once he realized that Kyouya was staring up at him, that Kyouya’s jaw was clenched pretty tightly and he… _oh_.

But surprisingly enough, Tamaki didn’t get off of him immediately like Kyouya expected him to. No, he seemed to have caught the infectious bug of desire, and his violet eyes swirled with the lust that he had been damming back for years.

So Kyouya was only filled with mild surprise when Tamaki slowly leaned down and pressed his lips to the other teen’s.

Warmth quickly spread through both of their bodies, like the water rushing out of the proverbial dam. Kyouya kissed back, quickly wrapping his arms around the lithe blonde’ shoulders and Tamaki practically purred, arching into the other’s touch. Tossing chaste out the window, Kyouya pressed his tongue into the other’s mouth where it was welcomed readily and Tamaki shivered in his arms when he felt Kyouya’s hands push up his shirt and rub against his warming skin.

It was then that Kyouya reversed their positions so he was straddling the other, and there was a pause in which they stared at each other. And Kyouya watched as the look in Tamaki’s eyes slowly changed from aroused, to shocked, to horrified, and to disgust.

He pushed Kyouya away and covered his mouth, his complexion looking greener by the moment, and he ran to Kyouya’s adjacent bathroom and slammed the door shut.

Kyouya felt dread move to the pit of his stomach and he winced when he could hear the other retching through the door. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, feeling more disgusted with himself by the moment. This was his fault. He should have just pushed Tamaki away when the other got on top of him, stopped it before it got anywhere and now Tamaki probably hated him.

When he heard silence in the bathroom after the toilet flushed he headed cautiously towards the door. He would make amends if he could.

“Tamaki. . . ?”  He knocked lightly on the door and, hearing no answer, pushed the door open and his heart broke. Tamaki was sitting on the floor, with his knees to his chest and his back against the bathtub. There were silent tears streaming down his face and once he saw Kyouya he tried hastily to wipe them away. Kyouya sat down on the edge of the tub, far away so the blonde could have his space and wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

“You know,” the other began with a sad, heartbreaking, little laugh, “I used to pray every night for God to change me into a girl because I figured then he wouldn’t hate me so much for liking boys.”

Kyouya’s heart ached and he bit his tongue to keep from replying, _no, you’re beautiful the way you are and anyone that doesn’t see that is wrong_ , because he knew that there was nothing he could say that could convince the other of this. There was nothing he could say to convince Tamaki otherwise of the doctrines that had been drilled into his mind since he was a small child.

So he didn’t say anything, he just stayed there and hoped his friend would know that Kyouya would never hate him, even if he thought his god did.


End file.
